The first-class cabin was hushed and cool, the air carrying a faint trace of expensive perfumes and leather. I settled into the wide seat by the window, the soft sage wrap dress shifting across my lap as I tucked one leg beneath me. The side tie had loosened somewhere between the lounge and the jet bridge; a narrow band of pale skin showed above my knee whenever I moved.
A man paused in the aisle, coat still buttoned, one hand resting lightly on the seatback. He looked as though he belonged here without trying.
“Is this... taken?” he quipped, his voice low and unhurried.
I shook my head, a little smile tugging at my mouth. “Oh I always book two seats whenever I fly.. sorry!” I giggled with a wry smile, rather proud of my quick response.
He sat, the seatbelt clicking into place with a quiet precision. “Leander Croft.” A small inclination of his head. “And you?”
I could sense chemistry the moment his hand reached out for mine, “Tessa,” I responded sounding very formal, "Tessa.. um.. Sweets."
His eyes flicked, just once, to the loosened tie of my dress before returning to my face. One corner of his mouth lifted.
“Aren't you just.." He smirked as his hand left mine. "Lovely to meet you.... Tessa.”
The aircraft pushed back. Outside, rain streaked the window. Leander accepted a glass of water from the effortlessly beautiful steward and offered me the second glass without a word. Our fingers brushed; his were warm against my cold digits.
“You look as though you’re still deciding whether this seat was meant for you,” he said, quiet enough that the words stayed between us.
I laughed under my breath, the sound softer than I intended. “Is... Is it that obvious?” I blushed, biting my lip as I squirmed against the first class seat. Clearly I looked like a fish out of water in this class of ticket.
“Only if one is paying attention.” He glanced again at the dress, the fabric gaping a fraction more as I placed my drink down for a moment. I gingerly drew the tie tighter, heat rising beneath my skin. He did not look away. “The colour suits you. Soft. A little careless if you aren’t careful how you sit.” he winked. His relaxed yet flirtatious attitude disarming me instantly.
I crossed my ankles and felt the slit shift again. “I.. um.. I didn’t realise it had come undone.”
“I did,” he replied, almost gently before leaning closer and whispering “It makes the cabin feel less like a waiting room.”
Dinner service began under brighter lights. Around us, passengers unfurled napkins and opened screens. Leander and I spoke of ordinary things as if conversation were all the entertainment on offer—cities, weather, the particular quiet of a long-haul flight—yet every sentence seemed to tilt toward something else.
“You keep adjusting that dress,” he observed, voice mild. “As though you’re not quite sure how much you want to reveal”
I paused with my fork halfway to my mouth. “It’s just a wrap. I can't help it if it moves.” I flirted over dinner.
“Most things do move, when they want to.” He set his glass down. The cabin lights caught the line of his throat as he swallowed. “I find it rather charming that you haven’t quite noticed how often it has.... moved.”
A small laugh escaped me, half-embarrassed. “Should I be more careful?”
“Only if you want to be,” he said. “Some people prefer the moment they stop to.”
I looked down at my plate and felt the weight of his attention settle on my cleavage like a warm palm.
An hour later the lights sank to a deep blue. Most of the other passengers had already reclined, headphones on, blankets drawn high. The space between our seats felt narrower in the dark.
“Can’t sleep?” Leander asked. His voice was barely more than breath against the low hum of the engines.
I turned my head. He was watching me, one arm resting along the divider. “Not yet. You?”
“Not when the company keeps drawing my eye.” He shifted a fraction closer. The sleeve of his shirt brushed the edge of my arm. And then he said it, low and quiet, “Tell me something you wouldn’t normally say on a flight.”
I hesitated, then answered in the same low tone. “I... I keep thinking how quiet it is. How no one would notice if we spoke about things.... things we shouldn’t.” I replied, biting my lip.
A soft sound left him—almost a laugh, almost not. “Dangerous thought, Tessa.”
“Perhaps,” I said. “You started it.”
He leaned in until I could smell the clean scent of his cologne mixed with the last of the wine.
“I like a certain kind of control,” he murmured. “Not the loud sort. The kind where someone looks at you and realises they’ve already decided to let you have it. Where the choice slips and it thrills them instead of frightening them.”
My pulse jumped beneath my skin. I kept my voice steady. “And... what do you do with that?” I whimpered under the low cabin lights.
“I watch them discover how much they want to give it. How good it feels when they stop pretending they don’t.” His fingers rested on the divider, close enough that I could have touched them if I moved an inch. “Does that stir anything, or have I misread the way you’ve been looking at me?”
I swallowed. The dress had loosened again as i shifted; cool air touched the skin against my thigh. “I… don’t know... yet.”
“That’s the interesting part,” he said. “Not knowing. Wondering what you’d do if I asked you to stay very still and let me see what happens when you stop adjusting that dress.”
The plane drifted through night. Somewhere behind us a passenger snored softly. Leander’s mouth was near my ear now, the words so quiet they felt like a secret pressed against my skin.
“I keep imagining your hands on the armrests. Not because anyone told you to put them there. Because you wanted something solid to hold while you decided how far you’d let me go.” he growled his words low and meaningful.
A small sound escaped me. I bit my lip harder.
“There,” he said, pleased, the word almost tender. “That little catch in your breath. I’d like to hear it again. Somewhere with a door that locks. Somewhere I could tell you, very clearly, exactly where I wanted your hands, and watch you try not to try not to.... submit.. too quickly.”
I turned my face toward him. Our noses almost touched in the dim light. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
“I’m sure of what I want.” His eyes flicked down to my mouth, then back. “I’m less sure whether you’ll message me after we land. That’s the part that has me curious.”
My heart was loud in my ears. I didn’t move away.
The seatbelt sign chimed. Lights rose a fraction. People stirred, blankets sliding down. Leander straightened, though his knee still rested against mine beneath the lowered table.
“When we finally stop,” he said, voice normal now but still low enough that only I could hear, “I’ll leave you my card. On it is a number that goes only to me. If you decide you’d like to find out what happens when neither of us has to whisper… text me the word ‘still’. Nothing else. I’ll know what you mean.”
I stared at him, the dress half-open at my side and no longer something I cared to fix. “That’s rather direct.”
“Would you prefer I pretended I hadn’t spent the last several hours thinking about the way you look in that dress, and what you might look like.. out of it?” A faint smile touched his mouth. “I don’t do pretence very well.”
The plane touched down with a soft jolt. A few minutes later he unbuckled, stood, and slipped a slim card onto the armrest between us. His fingers brushed the back of my hand as he did it—deliberate, brief, warm.
“Safe travels, Tessa,” he grinned... "I hope we meet again." Then he was gone, coat over his arm, disappearing into the stream of passengers heading for the jet bridge.
I stayed in my seat while the cabin emptied around me. The card was warm from his pocket. Thick cream paper. His name. A single number. Nothing else.
I turned it over in my fingers. The dress had fallen open again at the side; cool air touched the skin I had spent the flight trying not to reveal. My phone in my hand, unsure whether I should use it.
One word... "Still."
I pictured typing it in the busy arrivals hall. Pictured the moment he read it. Pictured what he might ask for once we were no longer surrounded by sleeping strangers and the low, constant hum of engines. Whether he would want my hands on his chest, his stomach.... or somewhere lower. Whether I would put them there if he told me to.
My thumb hovered over the dark phone screen. The cabin lights were bright now. Somewhere ahead, the jet bridge waited, ordinary and loud. I hadn’t moved.
The card stayed in my hand. Waking my phone into life with a single tap... And I sat there, dress half-undone, wondering how long I could keep pretending I wasn’t already sure what I would type... the moment... I stepped.. off the plane.
